Six
by StillWaters1
Summary: Jim Kirk's longest running relationship was with a number. A reflection on Jim's past, his friendship with Bones, and tragedy aboard the Enterprise.


Title: Six

Author: Still Waters

Fandom: Star Trek 2009

Disclaimer: Not mine. Just playing, with love and respect to those who brought these characters to life.

Summary: Jim Kirk's longest running relationship was with a number. A reflection on Jim's past, his friendship with Bones, and tragedy aboard the Enterprise.

Notes: This is my first journey into writing the Reboot characters. I'm in the middle of two TOS stories with a third idea on the back burner, but this piece suddenly came out of nowhere and demanded to be written. Once I began reviewing the movie, I found so many perfect connections, direct quotes, and parallels, that I had to take the time to give this a shot. Please be warned that this is not a happy story overall, but where there is death, there is also life. I hope I was able to do the emotions justice. This piece is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own. Thank you for your support.

* * *

Jim Kirk was known for his relationships: short-term, _shorter_-term, human, alien, strange, _stranger_.

It wasn't until he met Leonard McCoy that 'long-term' was added to the list.

Laying eyes on the Enterprise soon introduced 'mechanical.'

In the end though, it all came down to '_numerical_.'

Ask Jim Kirk about his longest running relationship and the answer was both expectedly unexpected and heartbreakingly, emotionally complex:

The number six.

Narada. The ship forever associated with his birth. A six-lettered murderer that robbed him of the two six-lettered people that should have been closest to him – physically of George, emotionally of Winona.

He hated the number six.

Many years later, Christopher Pike gave him a push toward destiny with a six-word challenge: "I dare you to do better."

Several hours after that, he began the first positive long-term relationship of his life as a disheveled, aviophobic physician informed him in six breathy words, "I may throw up on you."

Maybe six wasn't so bad after all.

Then the Narada returned. While Jim was preparing to space jump with a Japanese fencing expert and an overzealous red-clad pyromaniac, Spock was demanding a situation report from Dr. Puri.

Six harried words from McCoy confirmed the first of many deaths. "Dr. Puri was on deck six."

With that, Spock promoted the only man Jim ever wanted as CMO of the Enterprise and with six words, McCoy accepted: "Tell me something I don't know."

When it was all over, Kirk still hated the six-lettered Narada, but he came to treasure the six _people_ who not only trusted him in his newly appointed captaincy, but became true, constant friends.

Spock.

Uhura.

Sulu.

Chekov.

Scotty.

McCoy.

He came to depend on the comfort and reliability of McCoy's presence, the gruff grumbling that was never able to mask the deep, soft compassion underneath. He took refuge in the physician's frequent six-worded drawling:

"Dammit, I'm a doctor, not a….." As Spock began spouting relativistic physics.

"Yeah, perfectly safe my Southern ass…." As Scotty insisted that the shuttle and transporter _weren't_ going to kill him.

"Grab a drink, have a seat…." As the friend and psychologist merged into one soft, alcohol-bearing presence at Jim's nervous fidgeting and distant eyes.

"Good _God_ man, how in _blazes_…." As he demanded to know what had happened when an injured Jim returned from yet another routine away mission.

"I've got you Jim, you're safe…." As Jim barreled into consciousness, hyperventilating as pain and memory sent the sickbay alarms screaming.

"Yeah, and if wishes were horses…." As McCoy wistfully tried to reassure either himself or a desperate crew that they had done all that they possibly could.

'If wishes were horses' indeed.

Six years and countless eye-rolls after Jim had met and dubbed his best friend Bones, he and the number six were on good terms…

…..until the Romulans decided the Enterprise was too close to the Neutral Zone and opened fire.

The ship had a long name…

…But its weapons still hit deck six.

Jim heard the call for McCoy through the rush of casualty and damage reports flooding the comms, followed by McCoy's quick response. "Hold pressure, I'm on my way."

Six words. Calm, focused Bones.

The Enterprise ended the fight swiftly. Sulu knew how to make their photon torpedoes count…

….But it wasn't enough. The Romulans got off one last shot before their ship disintegrated.

Deck six exploded.

It took six tenths of a second for the emergency hull integrity measures to kick in, thick barriers snapping into place to hold back the cruel vacuum of space.

It took six seconds for Jim to hear that McCoy was down.

Six seconds for Spock to assume command.

Six words tumbling over and over in his head as he sprinted to sickbay. "Please God no, please, not Bones."

When he saw the thick trail of blood leading to the biobed, his stomach clenched.

When he saw _McCoy_, he threw up. Shrapnel had mangled the physician's torso beyond recognition. Everything was red. Blood was everywhere…..

…Except where it was supposed to be.

Jim wedged himself as close to the bedside as he could possibly get without being in the way. He hoped, he pleaded, he prayed.

He wished.

But deep down, he knew. The same deck that started McCoy's career as CMO was going to end it.

The irony was not lost on Jim.

Fuck irony.

He continued his litany in shaking, panicked breaths at McCoy's side. Maybe it would be enough. Maybe they could pull one more miracle….

McCoy's heart stopped.

The resuscitation lasted six minutes.

Six minutes where they all _knew_ there was no hope, but refused to give it up anyway.

Jim's voice finally gave out as M'Benga gulped in a shaky breath and turned off the monitors. "I'm so sorry Captain," Nurse Chapel choked as everything finally ceased. "I am so sorry….if only…"

If only.

Jim's vision blurred as he watched M'Benga cover McCoy reverently with a dark blanket.

He wasn't the only one crying.

As he fell into the chair that mysteriously appeared behind him, Jim looked at McCoy's unmarred face and….. just for a moment…. the devastation under the blanket didn't exist. He could hear McCoy's gentle voice assuring his patients, "You're all right, just rest now."

Just rest.

If only.

He ran shaking hands through McCoy's dark hair, silent sobs wracking his hunched shoulders.

Time passed.

Eventually, Jim found himself in his quarters, staring at the blank vidscreen, cursing space, Romulans, friendship, love, death…..and that_ fucking_ number six.

The Narada had made him _hate_ the number…but that second time, he had had Bones to support him through it, to help him make sense of the emotions tearing him apart, to find the words he needed.

This time…_This_…..

….Bones was _dead_.

There _were_ no words.

Jim rubbed wearily at burning eyes as he switched the monitor on. He needed to call Jocelyn so she could tell Bones' daughter, the light of his life, that her daddy was never coming home.

He glanced at the current time on Earth.

A short, desperate sound escaped Jim's lips as he lowered his head onto his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

It was six AM.


End file.
